


May I Have This Dance

by KY Lowell (TachyonStar)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TachyonStar/pseuds/KY%20Lowell
Summary: You can’t dance. Dante doesn’t mind. (Dante & f!reader)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	May I Have This Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I am back on my bullshit re: requests.
> 
> This one was for dragonesszena on tumblr, and I won't lie, I had a lot of fun writing it. (I've also now written reader requests for all the Sparda boys, go me.)
> 
> Still open for requests: https://but-two-days-old.tumblr.com/post/187780489258/

"What," you say with a soft laugh as you step into Dante's office, putting your hands on your hips and eyeing him with amusement, "are you _doing_?"

"Mm?" Dante turns his head to look over from where he's stood on a chair, a hammer in one hand and a few nails in the other, and a grin comes to his face when he sees you. "Ah, you know, little bit of this, little bit of that--" he shrugs, turns back to the wall, squinting critically as if he's trying to visualise the best way to finish his task before just shrugging again and setting another nail against the splintered paneling, driving it in with a few firm blows. "And a little bit of moving things around so demon carcasses aren't almost falling on my head every time someone slams the door, you know how it goes. Wasn't expecting you this early, though. Something up?"

"No, I just had some unexpected free time." You shrug a little yourself, taking a seat on the couch to watch him, your head tilting briefly as you realise the old jukebox is clicking and whirring in the corner, crackly notes floating through the air. (It's been a while since you've come in to music playing; it's proof that Dante must really be in a good mood, and that's something you're delighted to see.) "Which one is it this time? The Empusa? You really need to quit throwing darts at it, you're destroying its integrity. No wonder it keeps falling on you."

Dante feigns a pouty look, turns his head to pout at you like he can't believe you'd say such a thing to him, never mind the fact that his expression is full of clear amusement. "You _wound_ me, ____. I am _highly_ offended by your implications--" but he's laughing now, boots thumping noisily on the floor as he hops down off the chair, setting the hammer and nails aside on his desk for the moment. "Nah, you're right, makes a _terrible_ dartboard. Too old and dried out. It's only fun when you can pop ‘em - vicious cleanup, though." Turning to eye the jukebox, he folds his arms, hums a thoughtful sound and moves to prod at it, cutting off the current song in mid-note and changing it to something more bouncy, full of jazzy strains that lilt through the air. "In any case, I'm about ready for a break - been putting new holes in the walls all morning. So," apparently satisfied with the song, he turns his attention back to you, "tell me something. How do you feel about dancing?"

"That's an awfully open-ended question," you say dryly, leaning back and letting your arms drape over the back of the couch, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "I don't care if other people do it around me, I have no weird religious hangups about it, and I swear I have two left feet so I don't do it, but if none of that is the answer you expected, you're gonna have to stop being cryptic and just _tell_ me what you're getting at. I'm not a mind reader - and let's be honest, you probably wouldn't want me reading yours even if I _was_."

A snort of a laugh escapes Dante, never mind he's pretending to look offended again, taking a few steps closer and planting his hands on his hips. "Probably not," he says, and he looks pleased when you bite back a snorted laugh of your own, holding eye contact with you for just a moment longer than is strictly _necessary_, faintly smirking when you narrow your eyes just noticeably and let yourself settle into a purposely over-comfortable sprawl that is absolutely not one single bit intimidated. "Alright, lemme rephrase that. You ever danced with the devil? And if not," now it's _definitely_ a smirk, and he sketches a bow, offering you his hand with a great sweeping flourish. "You want to?"

"I just told you I can't dance." You narrow your eyes more, stare at his hand like you're considering biting it, but he looks so unconsciously _eager_ when you lift your head to make eye contact again that you can't keep up the aloof act, shaking your head and letting a small smile come to your lips, lifting your hand to place it delicately in his. "But I guess I can't refuse such a generous offer, can I?"

"Nope," he agrees, grinning now as he tugs you to your feet, pulling you close to him and settling his other hand on your waist, as easily and confidently as if it belongs there. "Don't you worry about a thing, babe. Just follow my lead, and you'll be fine."

"You and 'fine' are on entirely opposite ends of the dictionary--" you cut off with a squeak of indignant surprise when he's suddenly urging you into motion, never mind your clumsy stumbles and faltering feet, only his supportive hands keeping you from falling flat on your face. "I-I'm not kidding, you know! I _really_ don't know what I'm doing, can't we start out slower - you're gonna make me sprain an ankle at this rate and then I'm gonna be _pissed_, I don't have all the magic woo-woo insta-healing powers you do - are you even listening to me?--"

"Course I'm listening." Dante smiles down at you, easy and sympathetic, giving your waist a little reassuring squeeze and pretending for your sake that he doesn't notice how you're blushing. "Look. You're making this harder than it has to be. You trust me, right?"

"You don't want me to answer that--" your hand tightens on his as you nearly trip again, mouth setting into an indignant pout. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be letting you do this."

"That's all you need to do," he says, still smiling, bringing the both of you to a halt and just looking down at you for a moment. "_Trust_ me. I'm not gonna let you get hurt. Just close your eyes and follow my lead - I promise, you'll be _fine_."

"I've heard that one before," you mutter, but after a moment, you take a slow, deep breath, try to will the tension out of your shoulders, and tightly close your eyes.

It's still awkward, even like this, and you're still desperately hoping you _don't_ end up twisting or spraining something, but it _is_ easier - not looking at what you're doing lets you focus more on what Dante's doing, lets you feel how he's guiding you to move, and while you're certain you'll never be more than perhaps vaguely passable at this, it's beginning to feel less arcane and more actually doable. (It helps that he's very easy to follow; you may not be skilled, or even capable, at dancing, but you do know a partner with a firm leading arm and easily comprehensible body language can take even the most subpar dance up a few notches, and he fits those requirements to a T.) Honestly, it's even beginning to approach something you might call genuinely fun by now, and you don't even realise you've started smiling until you hear him muffling an adoring chuckle, snapping you out of the half-trance you've settled into, your cheeks flaring brilliantly red when you open your eyes again and see him watching your face. "Stop staring at me," is the first thing you can manage to say, and it comes out a little sharper than maybe you would have liked, but his affectionate expression never falters and so you don't let yourself spiral into needless apology. "I swear you just like to embarrass me."

"Only cause you're so cute when you blush," Dante shrugs, lets his feet and yours come to a stop and lets go of your hand to reach up instead, tracing light fingers along the heated pink splashed across your cheeks. "Even cuter when you're enjoying yourself, though. Sure looked like you were having fun, even if you say you can't dance."

"I can't," you retort petulantly, but you're leaning your head into his touch, so any attempts at acting genuinely angry are not even close to successful. "Maybe I just like being close to you--" and the instant the words leave your mouth, you're going _bright_ red all the way up your ears, not having meant to be quite so blatantly honest, but it's too late to take it back now and so you just turn your eyes away in mortification. Why does your traitor mouth _always_ do this sort of thing at the worst moments, you wonder? "I, um - look, forget I said that."

He studies you for a moment, sympathetically amused, tightens his grip on your waist when you try to pull away and turns your face back towards his. "Hey, c'mon, that's nothing to be embarrassed about. All you had to do," he lets his hand drop from grasping your chin, settles it on your waist as well and pulls your body flush against his, "was _say_ something, yeah? I'm sure as hell not gonna say no to such a tempting possibility." His chuckle, low and resonant, is more easily _felt_ by your proximity to him than it is heard, and it makes you feel both hot and shivery in equal measure, sparking off a low burn of pleased curiosity along your every nerve. "So if that's what you really _want_..."

You swallow hard, nodding just a little, not quite trusting your voice but trying it anyway. "Yeah," you manage, and thank whatever deity might be watching over you, the words don't come out shaky. "Just - let's stay just like this for a little while...okay?"

"You got it," Dante agrees, quiet and affectionate, a hand coming up to rest gently against the back of your head as if to cradle you against him. "As long as you want."

Still blushing brilliantly, you press your cheek to his chest and close your eyes, just nodding again and letting the strong, steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothe your jangled nerves, drowning out everything else around you.

Maybe if this is what it leads to, you think, you might just let him try to teach you to dance again sometime.


End file.
